


The Blue Couch

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Series: Triple-A [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: All the puns, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hand Jobs, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Praise Kink, Threesome - F/M/M, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8757583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: Sara unexpectedly goes into heat. Luckily, Len likes to be prepared. Even in his office.("THAT'S what the locked drawer's for?""I like to come prepared.""Omfg")





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prouvairablehulk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairablehulk/gifts).



> "I'll write a short scene," I said. "A little snippet for my Royal Word," I said.  
> 3,584 words later: "lmao"

“Sir, for the last time,” the beta says, “you can’t go in there.”

“I have an _appointment_ ,” the Darbynian says with just as much pseudo-calm, “one I have been waiting long enough for.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience and I promise to schedule you for next week. If you come to my office—”

“Mr. Hunter. I am not one to be deterred, as you know.”

Rip crosses his arms and stands in front of Snart’s door. “You. Cannot. Go in there…sir. If it’s of any consolation, no one can.”

“And why is that?”

“He merely said he was not to be disturbed.”

“I can hear heartbeats just as well as a _wolf_. You’re lying.”

Darbynian takes measured steps towards Rip. His elite status breathes off his scent, but Rip squares his shoulders.

Darbynian scoffs. “Snart’s betas. Always so defiant.”

“Is something wrong?”

Darbynian and Rip turn. Kendra Saunders, wings folded around her shoulders, smiles sweetly.

Darbynian clenches his fists. “Ms. Saunders.”

“Hello, Mr. Darbynian,” Kendra says, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Snart was unexpectedly engaged. If you would like, Rip could pencil you in for next week.”

“Why next week?” Darbynian asks. Then he snickers. “Oh, I see. He can’t control his own female’s heats?”

Rip’s eyes narrow. “Snart likes to give his pack free will. Astonishingly rare around here, don’t you think?”

“Follow me, Mr. Darbynian,” Kendra says, “we’ll get you an appointment.”

 

Crisp, polished Oxfords slowly circle around the hardwood. The windows that line the office wall are covered with thick blinds, but the natural light that sneaks in, combined with the Tiffany glass desk lamp, provide more than enough to add a certain shine to every surface and drop of liquid.

Len watches, expression carefully blank but pupils blown wide, as Sara keens against the papers on his desk, breasts and hair bouncing with every slap of flesh, the only other sound in the room aside from Mick’s rhythmic growls. Len’s long blue coat, stretched impeccably over his three-piece suit, does nothing to block the impressive tenting in his slacks.

He traces a gloved finger lightly across Mick’s shoulder blades. The burn scars ripple enticingly.

“Faster,” he murmurs.

Sara bites her lip and sends him a dazed smile. It only lasts a moment before Mick obeys and she’s back to filling her mates’ ears with a range of high mewls and low snarls.

What part of Len’s irises can be seen briefly flow silver. “Good.”

Mick keeps growling. He, like Len and Sara, knows that Len’s orders aren’t telling him how to fuck Sara. He’s already very good at that. No, Len’s only laying out another one of his plans: the fastest way to get Mick to the point of a full knot, just what Sara needs.

They’d just been about to meet with Darbynian. Len had been at his desk, going over neat stacks—which are now scattered in chaos under Sara—with his mates bracketing him. It was meant to be a more blatant show of power, one they’d used countless times before on those that needed to see a more _straightforward_ position of who was in charge (Len, Mick, and Sara), and who wasn’t (in this case, Darbynian).

Sara had looked at them. Len, posture straight, going over the notes he’d already memorized weeks ago for this meeting. Mick, taking another minute to stare at his lighter, manic focus dimmed to pure adoration. One exuded alpha authority even better than most pack alphas, while the other had every build alphas dreamed of.

And they were both _hers_.

Their heads swiveled toward her. Mick rumbled low in his throat, and Sara leaned heavily against the wall. Darbynian was not visiting today.

Len brushes Sara’s hair over one shoulder, cupping her cheek. “Don’t be afraid to clench around him, Sara,” he whispers, “he can take it. Remember two weeks ago?”

Sara’s claws scratch under the edge of the desk. “Yeah.”

Len looks up at Mick through half-lidded eyes. “I was jerking him off while you fucked him. You joked about my ripping his dick off, but he _loved_ it.”

Mick’s voice cracks. Len kisses Sara, the most contact he’s had so far with either of them, making sure to show Mick every swipe of tongue just like he likes.

Sara moans. “On your back.”

Len turns, settling his elbows in a casual lean. Mick’s wide eyes fixate on his pants.

In sync as always, Len shares a smirk with Sara before canting his hips a little. Mick’s hands clench on Sara’s hips.

Len finally lets his voice drop into a guttural promise. “I got lotsa plans, Mick. Gonna go into a rut,” he gently tugs at Sara’s hair, “just for you two. I might just let you have it, too. Let Mick suck me off while I taste him in you, Sara, right on that couch where our guest is gonna be, and when you’re both begging for me, Mick’ll fuck you again while I’m under you both, just watching, and if you ask nicely, I’ll slide down and lick you open again, taste both of you, feel Mick sliding in and out on my tongue—”

Mick throws his head back and cries out in perfect tandem with Sara. Len sees the moment the knot forms: Sara’s eyes glow silver like Len’s and a snarl of feral satisfaction hisses through wolfish teeth. He kisses her one more time, chaste and quick, before pushing back to his feet.

Mick moans loud enough for Len to be grateful the office is sound-proofed (creature to creature meetings can get very violent very fast; it’d do no good if the locals down below could hear it and call the cops). Len directs his hands to either side of Sara, allowing him to pitch forward and ride out his knot with his nose in Sara’s skin.

Once his mates are settled, Len decides to push his own wolf a little, just to see how far he can. Dipping his gloves between Mick and Sara, he slicks up two fingers at their joint contact, earning another moan from Mick as he leaves a bare caress at the base of his knot. He hums in intrigue, pretending to be surprised at the liquid coating his fingers, while his wolf is clawing just under his skin. In full view of Sara and Mick, he takes a long lick.

Tastes like synthetic leather and _mate,_ and it twists his bones as if the wolf is trying to tear himself apart to get at the source. Very fun and very worth it.

Len’s pack might not be far off when they call him an adrenaline junkie.

“Fifteen minutes and twenty-eight seconds,” he says, “might as well get comfy over there.”

Sara scoffs through her haze, though she does start gently rocking against Mick, who’s sunk to his elbows and is panting at her throat. His whole body shudders, still caught in orgasm.

“Well done, Mick,” Len says, running his wet index finger down Mick’s spine, “you’re good at following orders—when you actually bother to listen to ‘em.”

That earns another snuffle from Sara, keeping her—and by extension Mick—relaxed as Len intends.

After two minutes, Sara sighs and nuzzles Mick. “Need some help with that?” she asks Len.

Len massages the back of Mick’s neck. “Think that’ll be a little hard like this, wouldn’t you say?”

Sara giggle-snorts. “You’re not funny.”

Her eyes, back to their human blue but still flecked with alpha silver peer up at him through her lashes. Len takes off his coat and drapes it over his frankly absurdly high-backed chair.

“Rut won’t kick in for another half hour at least,” he says, sitting down and leaning close, “and I’m sure Mick would like to enjoy himself a while longer.”

Sara smirks. “He seemed to enjoy your plan.”

Shifting to one elbow, she grabs him into a kiss. Len makes sure to replace his hand on Mick’s neck, rolling his chair forward until he hits the edge of his desk.

Sara makes another quiet moan. “He’s so _fucking_ big.”

Len hums, licking her upper lip. “Lucky us, hm?”

For a while, the room settles into Mick’s small noises and Len and Sara’s borderline obnoxious kissing. At one point, Len shifts Sara’s arms around his neck with his free hand before tracing tantalizing circles around her nipples without ever quite touching them, and she starts cursing him out for teasing, she literally _just_ came, is he serious right now? And Len merely puts on an innocent face and doesn’t stop.

Finally, Mick grounds out a rough “ _Fuck_ ” and carefully pulls out of Sara with a loud squelch.

Sara bats Len away and rolls onto her back. “Ten outta ten,” she groans, showing an OK sign, “but _Leonard_ over here’s gonna get me going again sooner than I thought with his stupid gloves.”

Len flexes his hands so said gloves creak. “Come now, Sara—”

“ _Snart_ ,” Mick grumbles as he tugs off the condom (made just for alphas; another point for human-creature innovation), “stoppit.”

“Knot interested in jokes, Mick?”

His mates groan. Len grins.

Mick tosses the rubber. Without further ado, he snatches Len’s arm and drags him to the couch.

Despite the rough handling, Len drawls with easy calm, “Already? Sounds a little unhealthy for a man your age.”

The couch, same blue velvet as Len’s chair, muffles Len’s landing.

Sara sits up. The silver in her eyes has returned full force. “Ready,” she says, voice pitched low in a way that shoots straight to Len’s cock.

Mick gives Len a filthy grin. “You heard the lady.” He presses his face against the pack alpha’s crotch. “Mm, yeah, rut’s started.”

“So you lied,” Sara says.

Len rubs the back of Mick’s head. “Don’t sound so surprised, Sara. I’m a crimin— _al_!”

Mick chuckles and nips at his cock again. “Sorry, ‘m I interrupting?”

Sara pulls him out of the way. “That plan about face-sitting’s great and all,” she says, “but I really need his knot right now.”

Mick’s eyes spark. “Switch?”

“You read my mind, Mick.”

Well, this wasn’t part of the plan.

Mick pushes Len’s shoulders to the couch before Len can hoist himself up. “What’s the matter, Snart? We’re followin’ what you said.”

“Get the tie,” Sara breathes, straddling Len’s thighs, “his tie, Mick, get the—yeah.”

“I got another idea,” Mick rumbles, “gimme his belt.”

Len’s efficiently pinned Mick’s knee. “I feel like this is all very two-sided.”

Sara hands off his belt. “You just sit back and enjoy the ride.” She winks.

“C’mon, not you too,” Mick mumbles.

Len tries to see what he’s doing, but all he feels are his wrists being tied by his belt and his tie featuring somewhere. Mick’s heavy thigh is blocking his view and he can’t lift his head high enough. Although Sara seems to approve _very much_ of whatever it is.

“Hold ‘im fast, Blondie,” Mick says, “he’s a control freak.”

He lets Len get a small glimpse: his wrists, tied by his belt as he thought, but with Mick holding the loose end. But tied on the buckle is Len’s tie, and the other end is knotted tightly around Sara’s wrist.

In short, if Len tries to yank free of one, the other will catch him. In short, Len can’t move.

He bites his lip hard as he dares, but a small moan slips out anyway. His mates smirk.

“Like that, Lenny?” Mick asks, “See what happens when you let someone else take the reins?”

“Or some _ones_ ,” Sara teases.

She tugs at Len’s wrist, pulling the tie taught. Len gulps.

Mick unbuttons his waistcoat and shirt, reaching for his nipples—Sara shoos him away and says, “No, no, I got those.”

Len doesn’t like the look in her eye.

“Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

Definitely not.

She at least makes sure Len’s cock is free beforehand, though it doesn’t help much. Just as he’d done to her, she circles his nipples without touching them. Meanwhile, Mick rolls the condom on and slicks him up.

Len’s head dips back a little. Deep breaths. You can handle this.

Sara seats herself on him in one fluid thrust.

Len hisses.

“We’ll get you screamin’,” Mick growls in his ear. He kisses Len deeply. “Doesn’t matter what you put in these walls, our whole pack’s gonna hear you.”

He slicks Len’s lips with his tongue. Sara breathes out. Only pack alphas can go into ruts, their knots already partially formed when their mate goes into heat, so she takes a few extra moments to reacquaint herself with the feeling.

Soon enough, she’s looking at Mick face to face. Keeping her fingers moving on Len’s chest, she kisses Mick’s neck and jaw until he catches her lips.

“How y’feelin’, Snart?” Mick asks.

Len responds with a long lick, because he’s an asshole in every possible way. (Great, now _Mick’s_ making puns.)

“What’s my favorite letter?”

Sara raises herself to her knees with Mick. Len makes F’s with his mouth.

Mick’s eyes roll shut, the ministrations and the heady scent of Sara’s heat getting him back to hardness. “ _Fuck_ yeah.”

“Thought you liked it ‘cause of _f_ ire,” Sara murmurs.

“Can’ I have both?”

Sara gives a breathless laugh, then gets to work. She matches the movements of her hips with her fingers on Len’s chest, slow circles that gets a small gasp behind Mick.

“Don’t move,” she sing-songs, grinning when Len’s fists clench between her and Mick.

Mick hums, watching her. “You should see Sara right now, Len,” he says, “takin’ you so well. Bet you can feel it though, huh?” Len’s knuckles turn white. “Yeah you can. But since she ain’t lettin’ you move…” he nods to their alpha’s wrists, “do y’mind?”

Sara lets the tie whisper through her fingertips. “Go right ahead.”

“ _Nice_. Come ‘ere, Lenny. Got somethin’ else for you to do.”

Mick guides Len’s hands to his cock. Len latches instantly, maneuvering as much as his restraints allow.

Mick’s free hand clenches on the back of the couch. “Never let Snart’s hands go t’waste—” he groans.

Sara finally leaves Len’s chest alone in favor of pressing on his abs and fucking herself in earnest on him. Len heaves quick breaths through his nose, grip tightening on Mick’s dick.

“Look at him, Mick,” Sara says with a lustful smile, “still not moving.”

“He’s good at followin’ much as givin’ orders,” Mick replies, matching her smile. “Ain’t that right, Lenny? Like bein’ a good boy?”

Len’s abs clench. That’s it. That’s always what gets him, in the end. If Sara wasn’t in heat, she and Mick would’ve mentioned it later, drawn it out, but needs must.

Sara scratches Len’s torso. “Fuck, it’s not—I can’t—Len, _move_.”

She and Mick fall against each other like earlier as Len does exactly that, not just with Sara but with Mick, speeding up the movements of his mouth and adjusting his grip to press his thumb right at Mick’s balls.

“So good,” Sara whimpers, “Len—alpha—so good—”

Len moans loud and long, Mick’s body doing next to nothing to muffle him to the weres’ ears. Sara and Mick arch under it.

Sara forces herself to focus again. She needs Len’s knot, dammit. “Always make us feel so good,” she croons to him, “our alpha, our mate—such a good boy.”

Len _whimpers_ , but he’s still not there yet. Sara groans and puts her lips around Mick’s cock, Len’s fingers. Both men shudder and moan.

Mick takes a fistful of Sara’s hair. “I’m gonna—” Len and Sara hum. “Fuck, oh _fuck_ yeah—”

He falls apart between them, second knot swelling in Len’s tight fingers. Sara swallows a little before pulling off, letting the rest of Mick’s come paint Len’s torso.

“Fuck,” Mick repeats, “fuck, _fuck_!”

“Your turn, Len,” Sara says, “be a good boy and come for us.”

Sensitive to the point of pain, Mick forces himself to pull away, replacing Len’s fingers with his own around his knot. His back hits the other end of the couch, leaving his half of Len’s makeshift cuffs loose.

Len slips out of them with a thief’s ease and flips him and Sara. He takes Mick’s knot right back, because again, _asshole_.

“Tell me again,” he snarls, voice raw and desperate.

Mick just keeps saying “fuck,” so Sara cups Len’s face and coos at him. “You’re such a good boy. _Our_ good boy. Make us feel so good, take such good care of us—”

Len’s back bows, howling something that sounds like a jumbled mess of Mick and Sara’s names.

Mick stares at Len’s knot. “S’beautiful,” he manages.

“Yeah,” Sara whines, and comes with a breathy moan.

Len squeezes his eyes shut a second before looking up at Mick with dark eyes. “Forward,” he snarls.

Mick scrambles to obey. When he realizes what he wants, he pulls Len’s forehead to his and watches with rapt attention. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sara repeats, slotting her smaller hand around Len’s. “ _Yeah_.”

Mick’s knot twitches, and come splashes on Sara’s face. Len puts her knees on his shoulders, Mick gently brushing her hair out of the way with shaky fingers.

The three of them close their eyes and breathe harshly on each other’s skin. Mick and Len don’t so much kiss as drift together, holding each other through every spurt of come.

Mick eventually tries to pull back again. “’S a lot,” he mutters.

“I know how to swallow, Rory,” Sara snaps, “stay where you _fucking are_.”

Mick bites Len’s shoulder. “Gonna kill me one ‘a these days, Blondie.”

“Whadda way t’go,” Len purrs.

When at last the knots soften, Len throws off his waistcoat and uses his shirt to wipe Sara’s face.

“Lemme down,” Sara complains through the fabric, “my legs are numb.”

Mick snorts. Between him and Len, Sara’s soon comfortably situated on the couch, resting on his chest and already halfway asleep before Len can stand.

“Where are you goin’?” Mick asks.

Len fixes his pants and takes Mick’s shirt from where it’d been thrown on the fichus in the corner. “Gotta check somethin’.”

“Len,” Sara groans, “get back over here.”

“Yeah, Len. Get back over here.”

Len rolls his eyes. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

He drapes his coat over them before heading to the door.

“Asshole,” Mick mutters. Sara hums in agreement.

 

As soon as Len enters the living room, Lisa smacks a hand over her eyes and shrieks, “Lenny, _really_?!”

Len doesn’t doubt he reeks of mate-heat. “I’m dressed, Lisa. What happened to our _friend_?”

Rip rolls his eyes behind his book. “Shooed off, Mr. Snart. For goodness sake, go back to your office! You’re filling the whole room.” He wrinkles his nose for emphasis.

“Just be glad Hartley and Axel aren’t here,” Ray says, “just imagine what they’d be saying.”

Mardon grins. “Oh, you mean like—”

“Fun as this is, I wouldn’t want Sara and Mick chasin’ me down,” Len says. As he leaves, he calls over his shoulder, “Good job, Kendra.”

Rip squawks. “I had something to do with it too!”

“Sure, Rip.”

 

It is a truth universally acknowledged that when an alpha female has two males at her disposal, her system takes advantage of that fact.

Barely two hours after getting both Mick and Len’s knots, Sara throws off Len’s coat and wakes Mick by her trying to slick him up.

“Think it’s Lenny’s turn to go first,” Mick says, “but ‘m flattered.”

Before Len can do more than move at Mick’s side, his back smacks Mick’s chest and Mick’s asking where the stuff went.

“I have a—”

Len’s interrupted by Sara’s sharp, “If you say _plan_ , I can and will gag you.”

“Mm, maybe next time,” Mick says.

Len rolls his eyes. “Thought you _liked_ my plans.”

Sara puts the lube in Mick’s hand and opens another condom. “What I’d _like_ is for you to be a _good boy_ —” Len bites his lip, “—and knot me so I stop feeling so damn crazy for dick.”

Mick slicks his hand. Sara’s barely put the condom on before he’s jerking Len off with a rough grip. “C’mon, Lenny, shuddup and look.”

Len’s reddened lips fall open as he watches Mick’s hand move on his cock. Sara opens herself up, almost coming from just looking at his face, the way his eyelids flutter as Mick licks a slow trail up his neck.

“Ready?” Mick asks. She nods and so does Len.

A flash of movement, and Sara’s suddenly held against Len, blinking up at the coffered ceiling.

Len grips her ass, pulling the cheeks apart. “Relax and enjoy the ride, Sara.”

Sara wants to smack him, but then he’s sliding into her and Mick’s spreading her legs. She ends up choking out a whimper instead.

She and Len moan as Mick’s tongue laps at both of them, Sara getting louder when he swirls his finger around her clit. Len moves his hands to cup her breasts, this time actually _touching_ her nipples, the bastard, flicking and stroking with his thumbs while he kisses her neck and shoulder.

She turns to kiss him, sloppy and wet and perfect. Mick grabs her ass with his free hand, making her jerk.

Len soothes her with playful kisses at her ear and cheek. “We’ll take care of you, Sara.”

Fuck. Sara’s never gonna be able to look at this couch the same way again.

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written ANYTHING on this kind of scale before so. Like. I hope it was readable.  
> Much thank to prouves, my rogue canary enabler and ward.
> 
> Thank you for reading! More to come.


End file.
